


everything is alright

by snugglepup



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, But is it really a doomed timeline?, Doomed Timelines, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Post-Sburb, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Sadstuck, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1593251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snugglepup/pseuds/snugglepup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IV: "Who is the 'she' you're referring to? Someone you're emotionally close to?"</p><p>DS: "Nah, not really. Just a girl I used to play games with. Haven't seen her in fifteen years, three months, eight days, two hours, fifty one minutes, and twenty five seconds, so I wouldn't say close exactly. Time's a bitch like that."</p><p>Interviewer compares the figures given to the patient's stated age.</p><p>IV: "Are you aware that what you're saying is that the last time you saw whoever it is you're referring to was roughly one minute before you were born?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patient DS Interview 1, Part 1 of 2

_give me a reason to end this discussion,_   _to break with tradition, to fold and divide_

 _'cause i hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes,_   _talking with strangers, waiting in line_

_i'm through with these pills that make me sit still_

_"are you feeling fine?" yes, i feel just fine_

_motion city soundtrack - everything is alright_

* * *

 

Part one of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'DS.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

 

_Patient seated at table. Posture is relaxed, leaning back in chair with arms crossed, complete lack of facial expression apart from constant speech which is too quiet to be recorded by cameras. Upon seeing interviewer enter room the patient ceases muttering and his facial expression shifts to what appears to be a well-practiced smirk._

DS: "Yo, see you're rockin' the fancy-ass doctor look, it suits you. Probably 'cause you're a fancy-ass doctor. How many books you read about this shit, anyway? You gotta read a lot of fuckin' books to land a gig like yours, right, I bet you spend hours every day jackin' off onto your framed PHD or whatever the fuck readin' case studies where you get to be all clinical and not think about how every one of them's about a real actual person with a real actual life and real actual person feelings. Lemme guess, you got a boner every time you went to Abnormal Psych and figured hell I'll turn this shit into a career, they say shit like oh if you make the thing you love into your job then it's like you don't even have a job, and you were like, daaaamn, son, I ain't love this shit, I straight up _make love_ to this shit, I'm jizzin' all over the underside of my desk already and I'm still just takin' an introductory course at a _community college_ , just wait until university. Sound about right? Shit, sorry, I hit a little too close to home with that one?"

IV: "Would you mind stating your name and age? Sorry, it's a record keeping thing."

DS: "Oh, man, sentence number two and I've already got you fuckin' _pegged_. A 'record keeping thing.' So you're the cool shrink type, then, you're the one who gets all cozy 'n shit with the patients, like yo we all friends here, no need to get all nervous, it's not like I'm psychoanalyzin' every word you say and every move you make while I'm pretending I think you're a person and not some great academic resource that might just make me _famous_."

IV: "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I do still need you to answer the question."

_Patient sighs and adjusts sunglasses, which he would not be allowed to possess under normal circumstances; however, when orderlies first attempted to remove them, the patient became extremely distressed and then violent, requiring the intervention of four staff members before he was successfully restrained, two of whom suffered permanent and debilitating injuries, requiring extended medical leave. Without his sunglasses, the patient refused to open his eyes or respond to questioning. The patient could not be coaxed into communication apart from his repeated requests to have his 'shades' returned to him and occasional mentions of Ben Stiller. It was eventually decided that, as he did not seem to present any risk of self-harm or suicide, the patient could keep his sunglasses as long as he caused no further disturbances in the facility and refrained from violent actions. When presented with this compromise, the patient agreed immediately._

DS: "Name's [    ], [    ] [       ], age is currently... fifteen years, three months, eight days, two hours, forty seven minutes, and fifty two seconds. Fifty three, fifty four... that good enough? I could get down to the milliseconds if you want but they'll be different by the time I finish sayin' the words. Man, come on, can we just get this thing going already? Like, get to the juicy parts where you ask me all those seemingly simple and innocuous questions and I give you spooooky interesting answers on account of how fucking crazy I am and you can like nod all thoughtfully and scribble some bullshit down on that clipboard and keep up the nice-guy act for an hour or two before you 'give me a break' so you can whack it in a bathroom stall and take a cold shower."

IV: "Thank you. Well then, as you so eloquently put it, let's 'get this thing going already.' I'll start with something recent. Why is it that you believe you can keep track of time down to the millisecond?"

_The patient snorts and begins tapping his right index finger rhythmically against his left arm._

DS: "Time's who I am, time's what I do, that's all there is to it. Got my finger on the pulse of the universe's quantum clock, got it tickin' in my ears, in my head, it never stops. Here's a fun example, it's been three minutes and fifty seconds since I first started talking when you came into the room. Go on, check your watch."

_Interviewer indulges the patient and examines his timepiece, comparing with logged time of entry._

IV: "Pretty good guess, but you're off by ten seconds."

_Patient's smirk widens._

DS: "Took you ten seconds to get surprised, check your watch, and then finish your sentence. Boom. Pass go, _definitely_ collect two hundred dollars. Heh. So where's my two hundo and how come I got my little pewter shoe sittin' dead center in jail? Think you switched some cards up on me here, doc. Actually if you think about it, it's kinda like we're playin' over at _your_ house, so we're playin' by _your_ house rules. Guess I'm at your mercy, man, didn't even have a chance to get a hotel on Fleet Street either, talk about a shame."

IV: "What did you mean by 'the universe's quantum clock?'"

DS: "Jesus Christ, how do you want me to spell this out for you any more clearly? I. Am. Time. It's not that complicated. Be a little hard to be Time and not be perfect at keepin' track of it, right?"

_The patient's smirk fades and it is the interviewer's opinion that his following sentences were spoken not to the interviewer but to himself._

DS: "Fuck, man, like I ever really got that gig together, what a shitty joke. Thought I had it all under control, like oh somehow this is so goddamned natural I barely have to think about it any more. Yeah fucking right. I wonder if we're doomed or not, 'cause if we're riding the alpha right now, life is even more of a fucking sadistic prick than I thought. She said 'dead [    ]s are the enemy' but I'll take bein' an offshoot over finding out this is the real thing any day."

IV: "Who is the 'she' you're referring to? Someone you're emotionally close to?"

DS: "Nah, not really. Just a girl I used to play games with. Haven't seen her in fifteen years, three months, eight days, two hours, fifty one minutes, and twenty five seconds, so I wouldn't say _close_ exactly. Time's a bitch like that."

_Interviewer compares the figures given to the patient's stated age._

IV: "Are you aware that what you're saying is that the last time you saw whoever it is you're referring to was roughly one minute before you were born?"

_Patient's smirk returns, wider than it was before. He seems to make a show out of leaning his chair back as far as it will go, although as he does so he casually adjusts his sunglasses again, keeping them at an angle that ensures his eyes remain obscured._

DS: "Okay, maybe it was a _little_ bit more than just playing games. I guess we were kind of a thing for seven months, twelve days, thirty one minutes, and eleven seconds. But shit got complicated, 'cause when doesn't it, right, but it wasn't too big of a deal. When you gotta break it off with your girl 'cause she's been fuckin' an actual for real clown behind your back, man, you're lookin' at a relationship you already knew'd been dead for a while anyway. Fun chick to be around, though, she had this like... you know what synesthesia is, right, it was like that times a million, said she could taste colors, her favorite was..."

_The patient trails off and his smirk begins to look forced and uncomfortable as opposed to practiced and reflexive. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly._

IV: "Are you all right? Is this a subject you'd rather not discuss this early during treatment? The last thing anyone wants is to upset you."

DS: "Don't fucking ask me if I'm all right. Everything is alright except for how your faked concern is making me waste sixteen seconds I'll never get back. Can you at least _try_ to do me this one favor and like, not be a condescending prick who acts like I'm a ticking time bomb? Hah, wow, I didn't even do that one on purpose, score another point for those wicked [       ] instincts."

_Since the patient's tone seems to be laced with sarcasm as opposed to genuine anger, the interviewer, not feeling particularly threatened, takes a moment to compose his next question before he is suddenly interrupted._

DS: "Questions. Come on. Keep the ball rolling. Jegus, what kind of psychologist are you, anyway? This your first day or what? Ask me something interesting already. We both know you want to and we both want you to so skip the fucking foreplay."

_The interviewer makes the decision to take the patient's desire seriously, mainly for observational purposes as no genuine answer is expected this early in the treatment process._

IV: "All right, then, I'll get to the point, if that's really what you want."

_As the interviewer pauses, the patient sighs dramatically, possibly to indicate boredom, irritation, or both._

DS: "No, I want you to keep beating around the bush. Hell, beat a damn trench around the bush, fill it up with water, throw some koi in there, that bush is gonna be straight up majestic by the time you're done with it."

_The interviewer decides to take the patient's sarcastic tone at face value and prepares to ask the question that he believes is key to unraveling the patient and his mental illness._

IV: "It would be of great help to both of us if you answer honestly and remain calm. Can you do that for me?"

_The patient's only response is a vague, derisive noise accompanied by a shrug._

IV: "What was your motivation for killing your older brother?"


	2. Patient DS Interview 1, Part 2 of 2

_i used to rely on self-medication, i guess i still do that from time to time_

_but i'm getting better at fighting the future, "someday, you'll be fine," yes, i'll be just fine_

_motion city soundtrack - everything is alright_

* * *

 

Part two of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'DS.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

 

_The patient does not respond. He continues to lean back in his chair. His smirk slowly returns, although it is the interviewer's opinion that he is not in fact showing any emotion whatsoever. After some time has passed, the interviewer speaks._

IV: "Are --"

_The interview is cut off by a short period of disturbingly hollow laughter._

DS: "Forty six and a half seconds, that's not bad, thought you'd crack way sooner, maybe I oughta be givin' you some credit here after all, chompin' at the bit but you can hold yourself back at least a little while. Forty six and a half. Doesn't sound like much, does it, but a lot can happen in forty six and a half seconds, dude, you can trust me on that."

IV: "Are you going to answer the question? You did ask to 'skip the foreplay,' after all."

DS: "Oooh, now we're seeing some _teeth_ , looks like there's a person under all that education after all."

_Patient's smirk disappears. A few seconds pass before he speaks again, voice almost entirely monotone._

DS: "See, that's not even a hard question, was that the best you had? Anyway, it's simple. I didn't have any motive for killing Bro at all."

IV: "Then why did you do it?"

DS: "Even simpler. I didn't do it."

_Another short silence as the patient's finger resumes tapping against his upper arm._

IV: "You were found standing over your brother's corpse with a blood-soaked sword in your hands. There were signs of a brief struggle and DNA analysis confirmed without a doubt that the blood on the sword was his. When questioned by police about whether you had killed the man in your living room, you told them that you had done it. Why change your story now?"

DS: "Who says I'm changing my story? I did kill the pathetic piece of shit in there. He just wasn't my brother."

IV: "Again, DNA analysis as well as simpler investigation says otherwise. If you insist that he wasn't your brother, then who was he?"

DS: "That, my 'friend,' is a question I really wish I had a fucking answer to. And if you fucking assholes would let me out of this shithole then _maybe_ I could try to _find_ some answers, you know, the answers the cops aren't even gonna bother looking for. And I _am_ gonna get answers, one way or another. I'm pretty good at getting answers. Spread the word, [    ] [       ]'s a block party with free food and booze and every answer's invited."

_The patient is now leaning forward, elbows on the table, head held up by interlaced fingers. His smirk returns again, possibly more genuine, or as close to genuine as any emotion the patient displays seems to be._

IV: "We'll return to this topic later. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your past, particularly your school life and the... complications involved."

DS: "Go. Shoot. Continue skipping all foreplay, I want you to hit me as hard as you can. Whoa, did you just get a mental image of Tyler Durden cosplaying as Gendo Ikari because I wasn't going for that combo at all but there it is and _man_ is it great."

_Interviewer writes a brief note to research these two names after the interview is over._

IV: "You've been expelled from six different... hm. Three elementary schools and six high schools, I see now, for attempting to smuggle in lethal weaponry. Every time it was a similar model of long knife. Can you explain why you were doing this? Was it related to bullying or a desire to harm other students?"

DS: "Excuse you, those weren't _knives_ , they were wakizashi. You know, the same way you were passively dissing my katana with your uncultured bullshit earlier. I brought the wakizashi because I couldn't hide a katana anywhere without a fucking specibus, and no, I didn't want to hurt anybody with them unless I had to, which I didn't. You could _say_ it had to do with bullying, but it wasn't like anybody was threatening me. It's just not right for a [       ] to go anywhere unarmed. Not having a weapon, man, don't you just feel _naked_ somehow? It's skeezy, makes my skin crawl."

IV: "Hmm. You say no one was threatening you, but you were involved in a number of violent incidents at multiple schools, some of which ended in other students being hospitalized. What happened there?"

DS: "People were dicks and I didn't need that shit in my life, so I put a stop to it."

IV: "This is still contradicting what you said about bullying."

DS: "Oh my god. You literally pay no attention to the fantabulous intricacies of the English language, do you? If [    ] were here you'd be getting, like, verbally flayed to a level you can't even imagine, dude. Nobody was bullying me, alright? See, to bully somebody, you have to _affect_ them. Somebody calls me a fag, no skin off my back, but if I let it slide it's gonna escalate and end up being a total clusterfuck, so I beat the shit out of them, make an example, and life goes on being nice and goddamn simple after the suspension's over."

IV: "Who is this [    ] you're referring to? Another friend, I assume? Another person you haven't seen since before you were born?"

DS: "No shit, Mycroft, except that's like, half a point out of a possible two, you're lucky you're not in college any more. She's my sister, and the last time I saw her was twelve days, nine hours, four minutes, and thirteen seconds before I got thrown in here."

IV: "According to the files I'm looking through, you don't have a sister."

DS: "Yeah, not legally, and yet there she is, existing and being completely one hundred percent my sister. Funny how that works."

IV: "If it's not too intrusive, may I ask what her last name is? I assume it isn't [       ]."

DS: "Sure, why the fuck not. Maybe you can go interview her and get _yourself_ psychoanalyzed against your will for about six hours, see how it feels. Her name's [    ] [       ]."

_What's visible of the patient's face displays a somewhat wistful expression. The interviewer consults his files briefly before continuing._

IV: "Are you aware that there is a girl by that name undergoing treatment in this hospital? It's most likely a coincidence, but --"

_The patient sits up straight, mouth an angry line, an expression unseen since his sunglasses were previously confiscated._

DS: "No. No there fucking isn't. You're lying and if you're not lying I swear to god I'll... I..."

_Patient pauses._

DS: "What color are her eyes."

_The interviewer is quiet for a few seconds before deciding to continue pushing forward._

IV: "It's interesting that you ask that. She appears to have an exceptionally rare but minor genetic defect resulting in purple irises."

_The patient slams a fist against the table, causing an exceptionally loud noise and startling the interviewer, who relocates his chair slightly farther away from the patient._

DS: "The next time you say the word 'defect' with regards to absolutely goddamned ANYTHING about my _FUCKING SISTER_ , you'll be leaving this room in a _body bag_. You hear me, you smug, stupid, Harvard-ass motherfucking son of a fuck? _ARE YOU HEARING THE WORDS I'M SAYING? BECAUSE THEY'RE PRETTY IMPORTANT WORDS._ "

IV: "I, I apologize. I didn't mean to imply anything negative. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to sit down or I'll be forced to call security, and I know that neither of us wants that."

_The patient is breathing heavily and trembling. He slowly lowers himself back into his chair and begins to tap his finger rapidly against the table._

DS: "You fuckers remember what happened last time you tried to manhandle me. Yeah, neither of us wants that, but I think you're the ones who _really_ don't want it. Do you have _any idea_ how much combat experience I have? How many _monsters_ I've killed, how much fucking blood I've spilled with that katana you didn't even bother researching enough to label anything better than _sword?_ [       ]s gonna fucking _stride_. I was a _god_ once. I'm a Knight, not a Prince or some shit, but you better believe I will fucking ruin every last one of you if you make me. You can start running low on uninjured orderlies and assholes with needles and tasers eventually, but I've got _all the time in the world_."

IV: "Making threats against personnel is not going to help your case --"

DS: "Shut. Up. I've got one more thing to say about this. If you pieces of shit lay a fucking finger on my fucking sister, it's open season on smug shiteaters and that season ain't ever closing again."

IV: "I assure you, no one is going to harm Ms. [       ]. I believe this session is about out of time, so I have one last question to ask for today."

DS: "How many times are we gonna have to have this conversation about the foreplay. Get _moving_. You just keep killing the mood, man. There's days you wanna mess around and there's days you just wanna _fuck_ , you know?"

IV: "You just said that you were a god, in the past tense. What exactly did you mean?"

_Patient begins to laugh, starting with a quiet chuckle that escalates rapidly into near-hysterics. Eventually he calms down, seems to pantomime wiping a non-existent tear from his cheek, and adjusts his sunglasses again._

DS: "Call the fuckin' dipshit escort squad already. We're done here."

IV: "We're done when I say we're --"

DS: "Nope. We're done. Conversation over. See you on the flipside, Doctor McIDidn'tCareEnoughToRememberYourName."

_Interviewer sighs and calls for orderlies to escort the patient out of the room. Fortunately there is no violent behavior from the patient. The interviewer gathers his notes and files and exits. It's later, when footage is replayed and cameras offer a different visual perspective on the interview, that it is discovered that the impact of the patient's fist left a two-inch deep dent in the solid steel table._


	3. Patient JH Interview 1, Part 1 of 2

_this time, if i can't win then i won't try to carry on_

_i'll play it satirical, tonight won't be so long, i'll pray for a miracle_

_wake you up, pull you out, talk you up to calm you down_

_turn it up to scream and shout_

_the birthday massacre - science_

* * *

 

Part one of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'JH.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

 

_The patient is seated with her hands resting in her lap. Her head hangs slightly down, and she is almost entirely still apart from periods of several seconds in which one or more parts of her body appear to shake violently and involuntarily. Despite a high dose of klonopin, the patient's debilitating anxiety issues persist, if in a much less dangerous way. When the interviewer enters she looks up for a moment before her head returns to its previous position._

IV: "Can you tell me your name and age? Sorry, it's a record keeping thing."

_The patient doesn't look up. Her voice is quiet and strained._

JH: "[    ] [      ]. I'm f-fifteen. Sort of. N... not counting the g-ga..."

_She trails off as muscles in her neck seem to stiffen to a degree that causes her head to shake in a way that reminds the interviewer uncomfortably of the film Jacob's Ladder._

IV: "Ms. [      ], are you alright?"

_Patient looks up and smiles nervously._

JH: "Not really! I think if I was a-alright, I wouldn't be in here. And you can call me [    ]. It's nice to m-meet you."

IV: "I know that you've been heavily sedated for a while. Do you remember what happened before you were admitted to this facility?"

_The patient shrugs and then shuts her eyes and bites her lip as her left arm jerks rapidly, part of her lower arm repeatedly impacting the underside of the table._

JH: "I was at school in Ph-Physics, and I was trying to pretend I didn't a-already know all of the answers to the questions anybody could a-ask even past u-university level education, and then, everything just, it... I guess I f-finally just broke and c-couldn't hold all of e-everything back any more!"

_She laughs quietly to herself._

IV: "What do you mean by 'everything?' Were you under a lot of pressure?"

_Patient's laughter becomes louder and unsettlingly sincere._

JH: "I guess you c-could put it that way. It was... it still is, it's k-kind of like how I think being too d-deep underwater feels, or m-maybe being too close to a black hole. Like a p-pressure trying to crush me from every s-side, every angle."

_The interviewer, having meant social or educational pressure, is surprised by this response. The patient looks strangely apologetic as a loud tapping sound indicates that one or both of her legs are spasming._

JH: "S-sorry, I know that's not what you were asking. It's j-just the real answer!"

IV: "It's fine, there's no need to apologize. And how long have you felt like this? Was there anything that seemed to trigger this feeling of pressure?"

JH: "Winning. We w-won. And I thought, we all thought that things would be better, but I g-guess we were wrong."

IV: "What did you win, and when?"

JH: "Everything! We won th-the whole game, we f-finally did it... and... I'm s-sorry, you asked me something else, too. F-fifteen years ago."

IV: "[    ], you're fifteen years old. What game do you feel you were playing as an infant?"

_The patient abruptly sits up straighter and her hands rise and then settle on the table. The interviewer is shocked when a low, animalistic growl rises from her throat, as no such behavior had been observed before._

JH: "Don't y-you try to tell me what I _feel,_ fuckass! You don't know shit about, about anything! You don't know h-how it feels to have to g-grow up _twice_ , to feel the, the atoms all around y-you, gravity, magnetic fields, everything p-pulling and s-squeezing and m-moving all at once like they're b-best friends who h-hate you now and you _d-don't even know why!"_

IV: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that it doesn't really make sense--"

JH: "Get used to it!"

_The patient shrieks this sentence as her arms create an unpleasant vibration across the table as she seems to lose control of them again. She begins crying, which quickly escalates into sobbing, though unlike immediately after her breakdown and some of the time in between her arrival and this interview, she continues to speak._

JH: "N-nothing makes sense, nothing ever has and I d-don't know why I thought it ever would. Nothing made s-sense in the game, not really, I th-thought I understood my a-aspect, at least, and m-maybe I did but I'm not a _god_ any more and I'm weak and b-barely have any control left but I can s-still _feel it all_ , oh god, I sound l-like [    ]sprite, I m-mean I guess part of me still is h-her, _fuck_ , I m-miss, I miss [ ]-[      ], I don't know w-what happened with [    ] and his brother and w-what if he's never okay again, I'm s-scared [    ]'s going to die and I d-don't understand why h-he'd do something like th-that it's just not _l-like_ him, I don't even kn-know why [    ] is here at all and I c-can feel them all out there but I can't _get_ there yet I can't _get to them_ and what if they _n-need_ me and s-so many of my friends aren't h-here and that m-means they must be on th-their old planet or s-something like it, I can f-feel them all the w-way out in NGC 5457 and I'll p-probably never see them again and I just..."

_The patient seems unable to continue, and the interviewer allows her some time to pull herself together. The interviewer is mildly overwhelmed with the number of potential questions he has the option of asking and which ones will yield the best results. He also makes a note of the patient's possible but inexplicable awareness of the presence of at least one other patient in the facility._

IV: "I think it might be best if I asked some other questions for the moment. Could you explain why, at the age of eight, you were caught attempting to smuggle a handgun into your school?"

JH: "Because I n-needed it. I-I'm so much better with rifles b-but I had to bring at least _s-something_ with me, it just feels so _wrong_ t-to be unarmed and I'd finally found a gun and I th-thought I could get away with it, I didn't want to h-hurt anyone but wh-what if someone wanted to hurt _me?_ I couldn't just t-teleport away any more, I c-couldn't teleport _them_ away, I was still s-stuck in a little kid's b-body and I was so scared!"

_As the patient dissolves into tears again and is intermittently wracked by more muscle spasms, the interviewer finds himself at a loss for words, as every question he asks seems to answer nothing and reveal even more questions._

IV: "What do you mean by 'teleport?' You believe that you have, or rather used to have, the ability to... teleport yourself and others?"

JH: "W-well yeah, any time, a-anywhere I wanted to, I'm Space and when I was a g-god it was so _easy_ to f-feel all of reality b-because all of its ph-physical components were a part of me and I was a part of th-them and it was so wonderful, y-you can't even imagine."

_The interviewer is preparing to ask another question when the patient sniffles, wipes her face mostly clean with the back of one hand, endures another peculiar series of painful looking twitches, then smiles through a new wave of tears and continues to speak._

JH: "The world, e-every world, it's so, so beautiful, when I was a k-kid the first t-time I taught myself s-so much about the universe a-and physics and r-robotics and b-botany and everything I could and then I d-died and ascended and I w-was _connected_ , I felt every single atom of e-every planet, every stray bit of m-matter out in space, s-suns and asteroids and b-blades of grass and I could even s-sort of understand parts of the F-Furthest Ring and, and, can you i-imagine what it feels like to hold a p-planet in the palm of your h-hand and watch it spin, and th-then to be a _fucking baby all over a-again and n-not even be able to t-talk right_ and start f-feeling all of the u-universes again but you c-can't _touch_ space any more and y-you don't have the power to h-hold it all in your head properly and it _hurts_ like _fuck_ and a-all of those beautiful l-lovely perfect th-things are crushing you, s-squeezing and pressing and f-filling up your head when you d-don't have _room_ for it any more and it f-feels like everything th-that exists is t-turning on you and the older y-you get the m-more you can feel again and i-it's all toxic now, it's cruel and s-smothering and you can barely e-even think and all y-you know is your reward f-for saving all of reality is th-that you've lost the b-best thing you ever had and now it feels l-like it's trying to _kill_ you? Can you? Can y-you fucking _imagine_ that?"

IV: "... No, I... I suppose not."

_At this point the patient has resumed sobbing uncontrollably and is raking her fingernails through her hair, body beginning to shake and spasm to such a degree that the interviewer is about to call for orderlies to sedate her before she can harm herself by accident when suddenly all energy seems to drain from her and she slumps forward, head cradled in her arms, which rest loosely on the table's surface._

IV: "[    ]? Do you need me to stop the interview?"

_The patient mumbles something inaudible into her arms._

IV: "Can you hear my voice? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

_When the patient slowly nods, the interviewer is unable to suppress a sigh of relief._

IV: "[    ], can you think of anything we can do to help you?"

_The patient raises her head shakily, as though with great effort. She meets the interviewer's eyes and smiles in a manner that can only be accurately described as haunting._

JH: "... Y-yeah. You can kill me."


	4. Patient JH Interview 1, Part 2 of 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Things have been all ~complicated~ with life and I've been going back and forth between various overly-ambitious fics I'm working on.

_make you tired, wear you out, shut you up and turn you off_

_clean you up and take you home, i'm not the only one who's bleeding_

_before the past is done repeating, gets underneath my skin, it won't die_

_the birthday massacre - science_

 

* * *

 

Part two of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'JH.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

 

_The interviewer appears at a loss for words, then regains his composure._

IV: "[    ], no one here is going to hurt you, let alone kill you."

_Shrugging, the patient's head twitches and she lets out a quiet, defeated laugh._

JH: "I kn-know. But I really w-wish you would! If I was e-ever strong enough to d-do it myself, I'm not a-any more. The w-world doesn't want that, i-it's not going to l-let me go on my o-own terms. [    ] m-must have been going through s-something like I am, h-he must still be, a-and he tried to, to get out, but i-it didn't work, b-because he's trapped, w-we're all tr-trapped, I think. S-Space used to b-be mine, but now it o-owns me, and it _w-wont let me_ _go."_

_Silent tears roll down the patient's cheeks and fall to the table. Her head seems to quirk to one side without warning, not the same spasms from before but something else entirely._

JH: "Oh, [    ], no, p-please, not again, d-don't make me feel y-you hurt someone a-again, they're stupid but th-they don't know a-any better, they think they're t-trying to help!"

_The patient suddenly locks startlingly green eyes with the interviewer's, glaring reproachfully._

IV: "[    ]? What's wrong?"

JH: "Tell y-your stupid orderlies to s-stop trying to take away h-his sunglasses! He's going t-to end up hurting someone, a-and probably himself, too. They're i-important to him, what are y-you assholes afraid h-he's going to do if you j-just leave him alone for o-one fucking second?"

IV: "Who are you talking about? Are you saying you can sense something happening in the hospital?"

_The interviewer, knowingly perfectly well who the patient is referring to, attempts to make progress in the current interview despite being deeply unnerved. After a few seconds of silence, the interviewer turns his head slightly away, seemingly unable to maintain eye contact with the patient._

JH: "I'm f-fucking serious! And you kn-know who I'm t-talking about, so don't t-try to trick me into s-saying wh-whatever it is you think y-you want me to say by playing dumb! Even if I c-couldn't smell your i-ignorance and fear I'd b-be able to tell you know wh-who I'm talking about."

_The interviewer opens his mouth to respond when another staff member opens the door partially and leans in._

SM: "Doctor, we've got a problem. One of the patients is acting up and you're the only one he's been willing to talk to so far."

IV: "[    ], I'll be right back. I need to --"

JH: "Give [    ] his fucking sh-shades, I know! So go do it, you asshole!"

_The interviewer leaves the room. While he is gone, cameras show the patient remaining eerily still, particularly when contrasted with her prior uncontrollable shaking; it seems as though she is concentrating intently on something._

JH: "Wh-why do you want to h-hurt me? I _love_ you, y-you know that, you ch-chose me, I've a-always been yours, even b-before the game, before I d-died, b-before any of it! So _why do you h-hate me now?_ Wh-what did I do _wrong?_ What did a-any of us do? We might as w-well have been slaves to the powers th-the game gave us, we w-were only kids, and we _w-won!_ We stopped him, w-we finished the s-session, we did _e-everything we could_ and it's n-not even like it wasn't e-enough, it _was_ , we m-made this world and we o-opened the door and, o-oh, oh god, is it m-me? Did I f-fail somehow, did I breed th-this world wrong? Is th-that why it's all been s-so awful, why I c-can't do anything but g-go insane? Is it my f-fault that [    ]'s brother d-died? And wh-why, why didn't I _w-watch_ them, I thought they deserved p-privacy but if I'd k-kept better track I c-could have seen whatever m-made him do that, maybe even d-done something about it, d-done anything? I d-don't want this, this b-broken world any more, I sh-should never have let [    ] open that d-door, w-we must have been t-too arrogant, too... s-something, what do you _want_ from u-us when we've g-given you everything and a-all you give back is more p-pain?"

_After this monologue to an empty room, the patient begins to recite various mathematical formulae, some of which involve complex theoretical physics, as well as some unique equations that she has perhaps invented herself. There is a momentary systems malfunction as cameras flicker and a patch of static covers part of the screen, creating the appearance that for a quarter of a second, the patient has disappeard._

JH: "F- _finally_ , I'm so glad, h-he's okay again, they gave them b-back, I d-don't want to feel th-the way he folds into himself w-without them, my heart, it h-hurts, it hurts so much, why, why did you d-do it? Would you t-tell me, if I could ask you? Tell m-me the truth, l-like I know you haven't t-told anyone else?"

_Suddenly the patient's head snaps upward as she looks at the door to the interview room. A few seconds later, the interviewer opens the door and re-enters, letting it shut behind him automatically._

IV: "I apologize for the interruption, one of our other patients --"

_With a loud snarl like that of a wild animal, the patient rakes her fingernails through her hair. The interviewer pauses anxiously, halfway between the door and his chair._

JH: "I kn-know what he was d-doing, he was f-freaking out because you keep t-trying to take them away from him! Wh-what is _wrong_ with you? You're o-only making it worse for him, d-don't you think he's suffered e-enough?"

IV: "... What is the name of the patient I just spoke to?"

_The patient responds in a fluid and natural manner, as though she does not need to think about her answer at all._

JH: "[    ] [       ]! Y-you know who I'm t-talking about, s-stop treating me like I'm s-stupid and stop h-hurting my friends!"

_She resumes scratching at her head and muscle spasms begin to occur again at random, though to a lesser extent than earlier._

IV: "How do you know that he's here, and what was happening to him? How are you connected to that boy?"

JH: "He's my f-fucking friend, what do y-you think? We w-were the base p-players, the primal a-aspects, we fulfilled the m-minimum requirements for the s-session, Space and Time, the W-Witch and th-the Knight, I m-mean it's not like [    ] and [    ] weren't important, I j-just mean, you can't b-breed a universe without S-Space and Time, you know? Th-that just wouldn't make any sense."

IV: "Why are you scratching your head? I don't mean to sound threatening, but if you're going to hurt yourself, we'll have to restrain or sedate you."

JH: "It's n-nothing, I just can't g-get used to being without m-my ears, I got s-so used to them and I l-liked them anyway! I m-miss who I used to be, I thought a-all I wanted was a n-normal life again but on the f-first Earth I grew up alone on an island w-with my, my d-dog, I didn't know wh-what it was like to be a part o-of society, I keep th-thinking that things must be so a-awful because of a g-glitch in this universe's DNA a-and there probably is one, there are probably s-so many, but my friends and b-brother said it's always been l-like this in the c-city and I don't know if that's b-better or worse."

IV: "You're saying that you... used to have ears in a different place? And what do you mean by 'breeding a universe?'"

JH: "N-no, I had two sets, y-yes it was a little w-weird, I had dog e-ears and my r-regular ones, and I could hear so w-well and I th-thought they were cute anyway! And I m-mean exactly that, it was my j-job to breed the f-frogs, to perfect the D-DNA, to h-hone it all until the G-Genesis was ready. I must have f-fucked up, I must have, or why d-do we all have to suffer s-so much?"

IV: "So, your friends, [    ] [       ] and these others, you created the universe we're living in right now? I'm sorry if this is redundant, I'm only trying to make sure I understand.

_The patient shudders and then sighs._

JH: "Y-yep, that's pretty much i-it. And wh-when we came in through that d-door, that, th-that _thing_ , something m-must have gone wrong, because H-Heaven is empty and the g-gods are all in a fucking ps-psych ward with most of o-our powers gone!"

_Both the interviewer and patient are quiet for a while after this. The interviewer, increasingly concerned about patients DS and JH and their connection and feeling progressively unsettled by unlikely coincidences, no longer has any idea what questions to ask, and finally takes a large risk._

IV: "[    ]... Can you tell me your story? This isn't exactly a normal interview any more. Please tell me everything, from the beginning. Maybe if I understand, I can do something to help you."

JH: "I... I w-want to, if you'll l-listen. I know you won't b-believe me, and I don't r-really blame you, because f-from your perspective it'll a-all sound completely stupid. B-but I can't, I c-can't right now, later, maybe, I need to, I need to r-rest, I'm so tired and my head h-hurts, my m-mind hurts, everything is aching and s-space is still, it's still crushing me, it's s-still ripping my s-soul apart, p-please take me, take me somewhere else, o-out of this awful quiet room, p-put me to sleep, please, anything, just let me r-rest, I haven't slept for more than t-two hours a night since I was born in this w-world and n-now it's all coming to an e-end in my m-mind and I just want, I..."

_She trails off and begins to cry again, with no signs of stopping. The interviewer collects his notes, considers calling for an orderly, then changes his mind, ordering for sedatives to be brought to the patient's room despite the reprimand he will later receive for acting without proper justification. He escorts her out of the room himself._

_Due to the unusual malfunction in the interview room's recording systems, camera footage is later investigated more closely. It is apparent that the malfunction is more significant than a single lapse, as a particularly dedicated technician discovers that scattered throughout the recording there are in fact over two hundred solitary frames in which no other visual issues are present but the patient is not visible in the room at all._


	5. Patient JE Interview 1, Part 1 of 2

_no one hears you fall to the floor_

_the mirror's broke and the newtonian's clicking_

_the finds are pressed and the veins are pumping_

_too far gone to do more than breathe, release me_

_pinback - afk_

* * *

 

Part one of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'JE.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

 

_The patient is seated casually at the table, a slightly bored expression flickering occasionally to what appears to be the face of someone lost in thought or daydreaming. One elbow rests on the table, chin in his hand; the other remains mostly pinned to his torso by its sling and bandages. When the interviewer enters, the patient smiles cheerfully and sets his uninjured arm in his lap._

JE: "Hi! Dang, what took you so long? Did something happen? It's been totally nuts in here. I always thought this kind of thing must have been way overplayed in movies, and I guess I was still right, but it's been really turbulent today."

IV: "Nothing that you need to worry about. An uninformed staff member unintentionally upset another patient, but the situation's been resolved."

JE: "Man, that's good. The currents were moving weird even in here with the door closed. Like, not a lot, but also not in a way that felt right, so... well, anyway. How's your day been?"

_The interviewer is somewhat surprised by this question._

IV: "A bit stressful, but fine overall. Could you state your name and age? Sorry, it's a record-keeping thing."

JE: "That's not totally true. Isn't it also to see if there's any weird reaction or something like that? Any good interrogation scene _has_ to have little tricks like that in it."

IV: "Interrogation scene? This isn't a... scene, or an interrogation. This is reality and I'm here to help you if I can."

JE: "No no I know, obviously it's real life, dude. Anyway, right, name and age. [    ] [      ], fifteen or thirty one-ish years old. It's a little hard to track exactly."

_Signs of anxiety manifest in the interviewer's posture. He seems to spend some struggling with his next move, but the patient speaks again before he can decide what to say._

JE: "What's up? You're moving less air than you were before, not counting when you were talking because that gets things moving, especially indoors."

IV: "It's nothing. Like I said, it's just been a long and stressful day, that's all."

JE: "Nah, it's definitely more than that. You're... confused, for sure. Definitely freaked out about something, but probably trying to pretend you're not? I mean, even to yourself, or maybe especially to yourself."

_The interviewer stares and the patient's fading smile is mostly replaced by mild worry._

IV: "May I ask why you're making these assumptions and how you feel you're gaining this information? That wasn't meant to sound hostile, it's just part of the interview."

JE: "Dude, don't half-lie. It's not part of the interview and now you're freaking out even worse. I'm just worried! Like, it would be kind of shitty of me to not care, even if I don't know you or anything and for all I know you're a total dick."

IV: "You still haven't answered the question, [    ]."

JE: "Jeez, okay, wow, see now _that_ was being hostile, which is totally uncalled for, I was just saying."

_After chewing on his lip with somewhat prominent overbite in a manner that suggests he is thinking deeply about something, the patient appears to settle on his answer._

JE: "So it's not like, _complicated_ , but when you're nervous, I mean you in a general sense, you either move just a little bit more than you think you are, or you're way too still. Either way it changes the airflow around your body. And when you're lying, you don't know it but there's a tiny bit of strain to your voice, like, not something I could hear, but it changes the way breath moves from your lungs through all that other stuff and out of your mouth, so there you go, another thing changing the airflow."

_After this, a moment of silence. The patient shrugs and smiles, looking guilty but ultimately unrepentant, and the interviewer remains his composure._

IV: "You didn't address the claim that I'm 'confused.' Could you clarify?"

JE: "Oh, that. It's harder than the other stuff, but when people don't understand something that's going on and it bugs them, they kind of look around a lot more than normal, like, twitchy eyes and stuff? It's really similar to some other things eye movements can do to influence the air around them, but I thought that 'confused' made the most sense, 'cause you're showing how you're freaked out in a different way that makes me think you're the kind of person who doesn't show anxiety like that, at least not usually. Oh, and the pretending you're not part, I forgot to explain that, it's just because you're fighting your feelings. Like trying to hold them back, kind of, I can tell because of how you keep switching back and forth between different kinds of freaked out. Those two were kind of guesses but I'm usually right about this stuff!"

_The interviewer spends a few moments rubbing at his temples with thumb and forefinger, takes a deep breath, and then lets it out as the patient watches, the patient clearly concerned despite what appears to be a moment of increased physical discomfort as he adjusts his broken arm in its sling, wincing._

IV: "Mr. [      ], there are quite a few questions I'd like to ask you about what appears to be a belief that you can... sense the movement of air to a degree that is unnatural, and why you have this belief, not to mention the statement about your age, but it might be best to focus on the reason you're here."

JE: "... Oh, man. I didn't really want to believe it but they _are_ here for some reason, aren't they, and not just to try to visit or something. I can't think of any other explanation for why even though the details are making you freak out even worse, you're not really that surprised by all this stuff, which is like, stuff that I think that a normal person would be bugged by in a different way."

IV: "Who are you talking about?"

_The patient's smile does not reach his eyes._

JE: "My sister and my best friend, at least. I thought I could feel them in the currents just a little bit but... well, it's not like anybody would be in here for a _good, happy_ reason! And [    ] and [    ] are definitely here, although I don't think the breeze has any [    ] in it, so the reason you had a long day is that you talked to one of them, oh, there you go again, so it was both of them, _shit_ , and now you don't know whether we're the crazy ones or you are."

IV: "I have to ask, what are the last names of --"

JE: "[       ], [      ], and [       ]. Ah, jeez, I'm sorry, but you want me to tell the truth here, right? I mean, that's a lot of the point of this whole interview thing, it's way easier for you if I don't mess around. Maybe you should like, take a day off or something, you're stressing yourself out really bad. Just being around you is making _me_ kinda nervous."

IV: "We're here to talk about you, [    ], not me."

JE: "That's the thing, dude. There's not really as much of a difference as you think there is. I mean, that's part of the problem to begin with."

IV: "We'll... talk about that later. I'm going to ask you some questions about your personal history, it's standard practice."

JE: "You talk a lot about standard practice and stuff... I guess you're not doing a great job of following the rules of your job, probably. Man! Listen to _me_ today, wow, I practically sound like [    ]."

_Something like regret further complicates the patient's smile, which, according to notes from the interviewer, could be considered unsettling, but struck him more as simply worrisome and indicative of the patient's issues with honesty and emotional expression._

JE: "Probably should've talked to her about this. Or like, anybody. I don't think it would've made a difference, but... I guess it would've been nice. She'd think I was trying to pull one over on her before she figured out I wasn't. But then that'd make her realize how many things about everyone I knew that I never said, and I don't really know if that would've been a good thing. Oh well, it doesn't really matter now, anyway."

IV: "At the age of ten, you were..."

_As he reads through his files, the interviewer falters and then shakes his head._

IV: "... expelled from school when another student found what my files describe as 'a high quality functional replica of a medieval warhammer' while breaking school rules herself by snooping in your backpack."

JE: "It's not like I was _expecting_ to use that hammer, it's just not --"

IV: "Right to go somewhere unarmed?"

_For the first time, the patient seems taken aback._

JE: "Yep, that about sums it up. Oh, damn. It's too bad you don't actually understand, I thought maybe somebody from this version of Earth finally would, but you probably just heard stuff like that from [    ] and [    ], didn't you."

IV: "I can see that you're still tired, not to mention in some pain from your injuries. Do you want me to just cut to the chase?"

JE: "... Sure, why not. You were leading up to it anyway. I mean, what else would you be trying to figure out, at least as far as your work's concerned?"

_The interviewer shuts his eyes tightly, inhales and exhales slowly yet again._

IV: "[    ], almost everything in my files paint you as a perfectly happy young man. A stable home, stable mental health as far as anyone could tell, close friends, very little friction in your social life."

_A shrug and raised eyebrows from the patient. The interviewer is unable to keep some of the sadness he appears to feel suppressed, his expression tired and somewhat lost._

IV: "So, taking all of that into account, why would a well-adjusted kid like you try to kill himself?"


	6. Patient JE Interview 1, Part 2 of 2

_this vessel's underway, secure the rigging, we're headed south_

_tack the sails, man the posts, we're headed south into the wind_

_protect, embrace, engulf, remember the summer in abaddon_

_pinback - afk_

* * *

 

Part two of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'JE.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

 

_The patient smiles, nearly every trace of negative emotion vanishing from his face._

JE: "That's kind of obvious, if you think about it! Why does anybody try to kill themselves, you know? Like _really_ try? I wanted to stop being alive."

_Consulting his files again, the interviewer appears to read one particular page several times over before setting the papers aside._

IV: "I see here that on April thirteenth, you... jumped off the roof of a twenty story building. I assume that's what you mean by 'really trying.' You know, it's practically a miracle that you're alive at all, let alone in anywhere near the condition you're in."

_The interviewer draws back slightly when the patient laughs, both because of the response itself and the unsettlingly lucid and genuine tone._

JE: "I know, right? Well, it's not a miracle for _me_ , I mean, the idea was to stop being alive, not end up here with some broken bones. The breeze won't let me go, I guess! Or maybe doing it on my birthday was a bad idea? It seemed like a totally appropriate way to finish things up, kind of like [    ] closing one of his stable time loops. Now it just sounds really dramatic and kinda embarrassing, though, whoops!"

IV: "Your birthday is listed here as being September third."

JE: "Well, yeah,but I meant my _real_ birthday, like, the first one. September sucks and every year it's just been another reminder that this isn't really my world. Also that I'm technically, like, thirty one years old or something, even though it sure doesn't feel like it. Life is super weird."

IV: "Well, to get back to the main topic, you say that you wanted to die, and the... extreme measures you took, which fortunately for you somehow managed to fail, support that statement. The real question, [    ], is _why_ you wanted to die."

JE: "Oh, duh. Man, okay, that's kind of complicated! I guess the really simple version is I got tired of pretending to be me."

_He shifts again and accidentally bangs his broken arm against the table, grunting slightly with pain, though without strong painkillers, the reaction seems disproportionately small compared to the sensitivity expected of a shattered limb._

IV: "What do you mean, 'pretending' to be yourself? All you should have to do to be yourself is... exist."

JE: "See, that's exactly what you'd think, isn't it? That's what I'd think if I were you right now, probably. But it's not true, like, even a little bit. I'm '[    ] [      ]' playing the role of [    ] [      ], and I'm just really tired of all the acting. It's been a _lot_ of years. Waaaaaaaay too many years."

_The patient uses his uninjured hand to indicate quotation marks around the first utterance of his name._

JE: "I'm not really sure when he died. I think probably it was one of those things that happens really slow so that you don't really notice until it's too late, you know, like if you're watching a sunset, it's like it doesn't move at all until you turn away for a second and then when you look back it's already halfway past the horizon."

IV: "So you're saying that you feel as though your true self is dead, in perhaps a metaphorical sense?"

JE: "More like an emotional sense, but I guess so. It just got to be too hard, I guess. All those years having to grow up again, I could still mostly remember and understand who I was, and that really sucked, but probably what screwed me over was Breath. It seems like maybe once I couldn't control it any more and all I had left was sensing the breeze I learned how to pay better attention to it? And that was just... kind of a problem, because I started to get way too good at it, like, I kind of feel like I understand it better than I did when I was a god. I guess some stuff just doesn't get handed to you when your friend tricks you into getting murdered so you can skip straight to what feels like the top of the ladder in terms of, like, power. So I started... knowing things about people, what they were feeling. And about places, and it was, well, it _is_ really overwhelming when there's a lot of people around, because I can't stop reading the wind and I _am_ the wind, I'm its Heir, so what I read, I kind of feel. Like when I said you were making me nervous, I was kind of being literal. You still are, actually, which is fine I mean it's not really your fault. It's just, the air around you won't stop trembling. This whole room is swirled through with your anxiety and all the other stuff you're feeling, like pity and exhaustion."

_Taking a deep breath, the patient's smile disappears completely, leaving him expressionless in a way that a number of professionals viewing footage of the interview reported to be deeply disturbing. When he speaks again, the casual cheeriness is gone; his voice is a monotone that could be accurately be described as desolate._

JE: "This is what I feel. Nothing. I forgot how. Everyone else's feelings, they bleed into me and help me pretend there's an actual person inside this body when I need to bother pretending. It's actually not that hard. Growing up the second time, [    ] was all messed up in this way that I still can't understand but felt kind of like throwing up over and over and being covered with bugs at the same time, [    ] was like a dying star and even when she wasn't crying the breeze knew she was crying on the inside, and [    ], well, I'm not actually sure there are words in English for _that_. I know she's in there somewhere, but her Breath just feels like things nobody living was ever supposed to be exposed to. Basically everybody was a total wreck, and I sort of found myself going back to my roots a little bit, being that younger kid who was always cheerful and optimistic and never worried about anything. They needed to feel like _somebody_ was doing okay, so I just made myself into that person, bit by bit, and it only got easier as I got older. Practice makes perfect or whatever, right? Even [    ] didn't seem to be able to see through me and seeing through people is pretty much what she does."

_The interviewer simply listens as the patient abruptly resumes what he has claimed to be the false persona of a happy person; the disparity between the patient's tone and mannerisms and what he is actually saying is difficult to transcribe and must be seen and heard to be fully understood._

JE: "So for a while I was actually really sad or depressed or whatever! It's funny because I mostly can't remember what that actually felt like. Kind of like feeling nothing the way I do now except for feeling sort of a helpless bitterness about feeling nothing? That's close enough. And all around me, everywhere I went, schools, malls, parks, grocery stores, everywhere there were people whose emotions put the details of the breeze into a frenzy, and it just made me more bitter, smiling fake smiles while feeling other people who had real ones, pretending to be positive when my friends were hurricanes of misery and confusion. And sometimes the worst parts would be the other voids like me out there. Sitting on a park bench with kids who were all really genuinely super happy, and then somebody would walk by and the breeze around them would be as quiet and bitter as it always was around me. I thought at first it was actually nice, knowing I wasn't exactly alone! And then I realized that I'd _rather_ be alone than be in a world where I wasn't the only person broken like that. I looked some stuff up online, people with depression and emotional problems and all that, and I tried some stuff to see if it would change anything, like a lot of people hurt themselves and I guess that helps them feel things, but I cut myself a few times and burned myself in some places nobody would see and it didn't do anything. It just hurt. It didn't even really hurt that _much!_ At least feeling a lot of pain would have still been a lot of feeling."

IV: "But if you were incapable of feeling, then why bother trying to kill yourself? What was it that you wanted to escape?"

JE: "Escape pretending, I guess. I didn't feel anything in the normal sense, I still don't, but I just got so _tired,_ and resting didn't help and sleeping didn't help and I was just fucking tired of being tired all of the time, and my friends were falling apart around me and just being that smiling laughing dorky rock wasn't enough to hold them together anymore and one day I just sort of looked at the calendar and realized what day it was and I decided that if I couldn't feel anything I might as well just not _be_ anything. I didn't care about living, it was my birthday, _and_ it was the anniversary of the end of the world. How could I pass up a chance like that? So I wrote that little note and found the tallest building around because hey, might as well fly one last time."

_The patient coughs and then winces, presumably troubled by his cracked ribs._

JE: "You should go, dude. Hearing all of this is just making you even more upset and we both know it. How're you gonna try to take care of anybody else in here if you're totally burned out?"

IV: "... Why are you acting as though it matters to you, if you really can't feel anymore?"

_The patient shrugs and grins._

JE: "Because [    ] [      ] cared about people, and I don't really have any other starring roles to work with. Get out of here, man! I'll explain the rest of it some other time."

IV: "Well, the truth is we're just about out of time for this session, anyway."

_The interviewer pauses._

IV: "I'm sorry, [    ]. I don't know what really happened to you to make you this way, but no one deserves to feel as though they don't feel anything. I'll be back for another session in a few days."

_As the interviewer is leaving the room, the patient sighs in a strange, almost contented way, and the interviewer looks back over his shoulder._

JE: "You know what's funny? I did feel one thing, recently. It was after I jumped and before I landed."

_He closes his eyes and leans his head back._

JE: "It felt kind of like... I'd been lost for a really, really long time, and I was finally coming back home."

_In the last thirty seconds after the interviewer has left the room and before other staff arrive to escort him back to his room, the patient's eyes remain shut, and close examination of this footage reveals a strange visual artifact likely caused by similar camera glitches to those present in recordings of the interviewer's first session with patient JH. During this period of time, the patient's hair and clothes seem to move slightly, as though despite the stillness of the room, he sits in the midst of a gentle breeze._


	7. Patient RL Interview 1, Part 1 of 2

_in the summer past i remember days so long and hot_

_these past weeks, it has been raining_

_and now my song's a flood, baby, now my song is a flood_

_regina spektor - sunshine_

* * *

Part one of two of the transcript of first interview with patient, who, in accordance with confidentiality clauses, will be referred to as 'RL.' For the sake of reading convenience, the interviewer will be referred to as 'IV.'

 

* * *

_The patient sits with a calm that is almost unsettling, though this may simply be bias on the part of the interviewer. Her hands are not visible and to judge by arm position are most likely folded in her lap. There is already a small, serene smile on her face before the interviewer enters the room, attempting to hide his exhaustion and trepidation._

IV: "Could I ask you to --"

RL: "[    ] [       ], fifteen or thirty one years old. I suppose, as with the others, you've come to me seeking answers? Only things will be different for you this time. You're no longer in the state of calm your profession requires. I'll offer some friendly advice, free of charge: if you take the highway home, there is a 45.413% chance that your stress will distract you enough for a semi attempting an irresponsible lane change to turn your vehicle to pulp with you inside of it. Now, this is slightly better than a coin flip, but I would recommend taking the long route; following the scenic contours of Baker Street offers only a 0.05% chance of injury or death."

IV: "I'll... put some thought into that, but it's you we're here for, Ms. [       ]. I --"

RL: "You'll be fine. There is a 98% chance at present that you will follow my advice, and unless the Light offers you a particularly unfriendly roll of the dice, which in this case I sincerely doubt, there are no serious concerns relating to your health in the short term."

_The interviewer has begun to grow tired of staring baffled at his patients._

RL: "But I digress. As you said, it's me that we're 'here for,' or at least, that is what you assume considering the states of my brother and best friends. Please do not waste either of our time and effort interrogating me on the subject of their identities. We both know what I'll say and I would prefer to avoid any condescension, well-intended as it may be."

IV: "... Fair enough. Then I'll cut to the chase. Why did you have yourself committed? Records indicate that you considered yourself 'dangerous and unstable,' but since you've been here, you've seemed to be nothing but a well-adjusted and intelligent young woman. I'd like to hear the details of your reasoning."

_At this, the patient's smile widens slightly._

RL: "Why, it's quite simple. I am in fact a dangerous and unstable person. Apart from my brother there is no one on this planet who would have any chance of stopping me from destroying it, were I to choose to or to succumb to darkness. I refer here to literal darkness, by the way, and not the metaphorical sort. Actually, I suppose it's both."

IV: "Destroying the planet? Your friends and... brother, to indulge the terminology, have all told me highly unsettling things, but none of them have said anything quite like this."

RL: "That is most likely because among the four of us, I am the only one capable of inflicting damage on such a scale. In _personal_ combat with their weapons, my brother and [    ] most likely could not be defeated by anyone in existence. Were she to regain full control of herself and her aspect, [    ] would immediately be capable of more destruction than any of us can imagine, but it's equally impossible to imagine her using herself in such a way. I am not so fortunate as to share her lucidity."

IV: "Lucidity? So whatever power it is that you feel you possess is outside of your control, or at least partly so?"

_The patient's eyes narrow, though her smile remains._

RL: "Feel? I believe I made it clear that I preferred avoiding any condescension. Frankly, I've had enough Condescension for a thousand lifetimes. If I ever see another Betty Crocker logo stamped on a bar of solid gold... regardless, please cease this trend immediately. Being spoken down to by an intellectual inferior is deeply irritating."

IV: "An intellectual inf--"

RL: "May I ask your name and age? Sorry, it's a record keeping thing."

_The interviewer stares for a full ten seconds._

RL: "Are you alright? There's very little I can do for you if you aren't able to communicate."

IV: "I... that's not how this..."

RL: "Name and age, please."

IV: "... D-Doctor Ivan Hernandez, age... thirty five."

RL: "Excellent. Please continue with your attempted interview; the effort is certainly commendable and, as a fellow therapist, I respect your dedication to the craft."

IV: "... All right, then. The last three patients I interviewed seemed to view themselves as gods, or perhaps incarnations of certain primal forces. Assuming you fit this pattern, what, then, are you?"

_The patient's smile broadens and she shrugs her shoulders slightly. Due to the angle of one of the room's cameras, her violet eyes seem to shimmer momentarily as she moves._

RL: "Wonderful. You're learning, and rather quickly at that. [    ] [       ], ex-deity and persisting Seer of Light, at your service."

_A small bow that could be interpreted in a number of ways._

IV: "Seer of Light? A seer doesn't sound like someone particularly associated with destruction."

RL: "Certainly not. It was and is my duty to sift through the Light, the many threads of causality that surround all things living, dead, and even innately inanimate. In general, destruction is something to be avoided, and I wish nothing more than for this world, my brother, and my friends, to experience a more peaceful universe, one in which an entire planet is _not_ wiped clean of life without the slightest hint of remorse from whatever force it is that drives paradox space and its avatars."

IV: "Leaving a lot of other questions to be asked later, if it isn't your power over... 'light,' that threatens the world, what is it?"

_The patient leans forward, eyes meeting the interviewer's and holding his gaze._

RL: "You disappoint me again, if only slightly. Indeed, I am this planet's truest connection to the Light. However, the stronger the light, the deeper the shadows it casts, and I am afraid that as vain as it may sound, the Light within me is the light of a god, as mortal as I find myself in the present. My point, Doctor Hernandez, is that the shadows cast by a _god_ of Light are darker than anything you will ever imagine."

IV: "I... see. Miss [       ] --"

RL: "Do you love your husband, Doctor?"

IV: "What -- I -- I fail to see how this is relevant to the subject at hand."

RL: "I am aware of your failure; nonetheless, it is relevant. Do you love him?"

IV: "Of course I do. What--"

RL: "Then you understand what it is to truly desire nothing more than happiness for another person, to place them above even yourself in your personal hierarchy of values. To be willing to do anything to keep them safe, even from themselves, sometimes particularly from themselves. But do you know what it means to need to protect those you love from _your own self?_ Despite what you might deduce from my vernacular, speech patterns, body language, tones of voice, I care more for [    ], [    ], and [    ] than many humans will ever care about anything at all."

_There is a brief silence that the interviewer suspects the patient is cultivating deliberately to increase the dramatic impact of her monologue._

RL: "But there are other sorts of love, those born of other primal urges and senses. The glory of watching something allegedly indestructible turn to lovely ectoplasmic ash with the simple thrust of a wand, the ecstasy that runs through the fingers and arms and every nerve as you plunge needles through the popping and leaking sphere of an eye, through bone and deep into the brain, the feeling of a consciousness made up of nothing but brutal and selfish desire encircling you in its wisps of oblivion and feeling that great entity tell you _'Welcome home,'_ the orgasmic shiver of fathoming the unfathomable, of giving yourself entirely to the bleakest and cruelest hedonism."

_The interviewer later claims to have been unaware that throughout this speech he has been slowly moving his chair and himself away from the patient, inch by inch._

IV: "And you want to protect your friends from... these... these urges?"

RL: "Naturally. Ah yes, Ivan, when you get home tonight, tell Mikhail not to quit smoking after all. It may seem an unwise habit, but in his particular case... well, I shall spare you the details, but a lit cigarette on a certain day several years from now will avert an impressively horrific cascade of disasters the avoidance of which, in my own humble opinion, far outweighs a small decrease in overall lifespan."

IV: "I'll... I suppose I'll consider that."

RL: "Please do, for his sake and your own. Now, there is a rather important question to ask relating to a specific branching point in one of your possible localized futures, one necessary to understand why such a grim junction may come to exist in the first place."

IV: "Miss [       ], last time I checked, I was the interviewer here."

RL: "An unfortunate misunderstanding, but I won't blame you. Sometimes it can be difficult, knowing just who it is who truly requires assistance."

_She settles back in her chair, smile one that appears to be composed of simple intellectual curiosity._

RL: "Since there is an 86.664% chance that you will be unearthing the evidence some time in the next week, exactly how long ago was it that you dug the hole in the clearing in that forest, and whose body is it that you buried there?"


	8. Patient RL Interview 1, Part 2 of 2

_y̶o͜u͠'v̛e ͝bee̸n drivi̸n͝g ͜dow͞n t́he sa͜me̕ r̴oa͠d,̧́ road ra̴g͝e͢ ̵ín̵ y̷o͠ưr ęye̴s_   
_͠so ͝wo̡n'́t̶ yo͏u c͢om͝e down̛ ̡f͘r̛ơm t͠h̴e̡ c̛ei̢li͜ng̛? w͟on't ͠ýǫu hear ͞m̴y͢ c͠r͠ies?_

_re͢g̶in̵a ̛s̕pe͠kto̶r̕ -͏ sunsh͏ine_

\--͝-͘--̵̀--̶̷͝-̸͡-̧-͘-́́-̨̛-̵̡-̧̨͡-͠-͝-̨-̸͟-̀̕-̡͟--̛͘-̢͟-̷-̡-̶̡͜-̧͜-̵͢-̛͡-͢-̧͞-̸-̴͘͜--҉̧-͟--͢--̷

T͘ransc͞r͜i͝pt ͝o̧f ̷inte͝rv̀ìe̸ẃ wit͜h͘ ̶p̨at͘ie̷n̢t, who,̸ i̵ņ ͞ac͏c͠or̢ḑance w̢ith ̕c͞ón̕fi̡d̸ęn͢tiality ͢clau͡s͘eś, w͡i̵ll b́e re͟f̴ȩr͢red͞ ̧to a͠s ̛'IḨ.' ͡F̶o̵r th́e͡ ͜sak͏e ̡of͠ readin̷g c̡onv̀eni͢enc̶e, ͘t̷h͟é i͟nt̵ervi͏ewer͜ ͡w͡iļl͠ b͞e ͠r̴efe͢r̀r̛ęd to̴ as ̴'T̨T.́''

 

-̢͢͢-͏͞-̨̀͞-́͞͏͢-̷͝-͏̛̕͝-̴̶̷̀͟-̧̕͡-̶̷̴̢͜-̷̡̛͝-̶̶̶͞-͝҉̡̧-̸͟͠-̀͢͜-̸͜͏-̛͠͏͞-̴̨́-̛͟-͏-͏͢͏̀-̡͘-͟҉͡͝-҉̷̡-̸̛̛-̕͠͠͞-̧͝-̡̛̀-̡͢͞-̷̷̧-͟͠-̡̕͜͞͡-̢́͘̕͢-̸̛́̕-̷͡-́͡͡-̀͜͢͢͡-̴́͘͜͞-͏͘-̷̸̷̛͢-̛̛̕

 

T̛T:͟ P̶lease, t̀àk͠e͡ y͘our̛ t͏i̸m̀e͏. ̡You͟r͞ ̛s͠hock i͏s̵ qu̸it̛e u͠nder͞sta͝n̡dable͡,͞ if,͡ gr̶an̕ted͢, ̡ra̛t͠he͜r unb̛ec͟oḿi͡ng̸ of ́y͟òur st͟a̷ti͢ǫn ͢ąņd t̨ra̸i͜nin̷g.͝

_The interviewer, tapping her finger on the table, is only mildly irritated as she waits for the patient's response, knowing quite well that not everyone has the level of composure necessary to maintain a poker face when confronted with the semi-metaphorical skeletons in their closets. The sad fact is that most people have not raised themselves to react to unexpected turns of events in a manner worthy of respect._

IH: I... how can you...

TT: Al͞l ͝righ̸t,̡ ́t̸h͘e͞ ti͢m̕e fo̷r ͝s͏ho͞c͟k įs͢ ̨o͡ver͟ now. Pu̡l̀l ̢y͘ours͜e̕lf̕ ͏togeth͘er ͞or ̴I͘ sh́a͝ll̨ b̀e ­fo̷r̛c̵ed͘ to ͡dó ̀s̡o͜ ͟for ̧you.

_The patient seems to gain some measure of composure, channeling anger toward himself and redirecting toward the interviewer._

IH: You can't just sit there and ask me something like this. You're the patient, and I've had enough of these deliberate attempts to upset me. If you won't cooperate, then we'll speak again later.

_When the patient attempts to leave the room and finds the doorknob impossible to move, he removes a communication device from his pocket in an attempt to contact other, even more humiliatingly unskilled personnel. He jumps when the item fizzles and crumples in on itself, slowly turning back toward the interviewer._

T̕T͠: Any ̴óthe͞ŕ ̕at͞tempt̨s̨ ͜a̕t͏ e̛scapi͜ng ̛ea̷rly̡ ͠wil̶l ̶b͘e͜ ͢equally ̵f̷ru̵i͢tles̷s.̕ ͢T͘h̶e̡r̷e a̶r͡e̡ no͘ w̕i̷ndows to b̵rea̵k̵.͝ No so̶un̕ḑ ͝w̢il̡l ȩsçape͟ ͝this ͝roo̴m̢.͟ ̷Aļl̛ ca̢meŕa f̕óotag͡e͞ i͟s͝ b̀ei̷n̵g ́ro̧ùt̀ed͜ ̸t͞o my͟ o͠w̕n... ͏n͏et͟w͘o̸r̕k͝,̨ as is̷ ͘m̢y r͞eco̷rd-͘k̛e̷ep͞in̸g̷ ̵policy̷. ͠Cón̛si͠d̷er̛,͘ ͝foŕ ̨t͝he ḿo͘m̷en͡t, th͝e ̧b͏oun͏d͘a̶r̕ies͘ ̕òf̢ ̛the w̕orld ̸to͝ c͘onsis͜t́ ̵of͡ ͡just̵ you͢ ̵a͡ǹd̕ I͏.̛ Be a͠ ̕g͞o͢od̛ bo͝y ̧and s̢it ba͘ck ͘d͜o̸w͘n, p̨l͟ea̵s͡e. ̴Qui͢te̡ ͢a f̵ew m͜i̶n͟ut͡és̸ re͏ma͝in, ̛a͝nd ̡th͠e͢r̴e̴ ap̡p͡ear t̡o ̸b̷e ́som̛e f͠áscinat̷i̶ng ̶s̕ecr̵èts ̶tǫ u͜nea͘r̛t͜h. T̴hi͟s i͝s ͡all fo̵r yo͠ùr̢ o͢w͞n ͝good,͞ yo̸u̢ ̡k͏now͏;̀ m͡emories ̢lȩft to ro̸ţ įn̷ ͞the͡ de͏e̡p͜ rea̴ch͘es o͠f̕ ͘th̴e̢ m̴i͝n̶d͟ ca̵n ̧on̷ly̡ ha͠r̨m͢ ̢y̢o͞u͠ i̴n̨ ̸t͟he͝ ̨l̢on͠g ̡ru̴n.

_[    ] chooses to follow the interviewer's advice and is a good boy indeed, taking his seat and setting his files aside almost unconsciously, hands shaking just a little. She finds herself pleased by this turn of events, mildly surprised by his mature reaction. Well, he is a fellow therapist, after all. One ought to expect no less._

IH: What do you _really_ want from me? What _are_ you people?

T́T: ͡Wha͟t͜ ̀d̷o Į wa̵n̷t? ͜What̸ anỳ ́t́h̀e̴ra̶p͠i͠s͡t͠ w͢ant̕s̨.̀ I̛ ẃan̛t the͟ b̵es͟t for my̨ ̧p͞atie̕n̢t̀, of́ çour͘se.̢ ͞A͘s ̶to ͞yóu̶r͟ ͞o̧t͜he͝r q̢ue̵sti̷on̵, ̷y̢o̕u n̷e͘ed͠n͜'̷t em͏b́ár̛ra͟ss y͞ouŗself an͝y fu̸r̵ţher; yo͢u ̧kn͘o͘w ͞v̛eŕy͘ wel͡ĺ w̷h̛a̡t ͟we͝ are, ̸a͜t t͜hi̧ś po͠int. ͘So͠, th̢en̸.͜ ͘B̢lee͞d y͟our̷ ̀so̕u̸l͏ fo̧r me͘. Pe̶r͢haps ̸you m̵a͜y͟ fi̛nd͟ ̸t͝h͡ings͝ ̸yo͘ư do̡ ͡not ̵e̸x́pe͜c͘t.̀

_At this, the patient finally seems to crack, abandoning much of his mask of professionalism. Progress is already being made. The interviewer never ceases to find it fascinating how simple it is to break the average person._

IH: Fine. _Fine._ You want my secrets? I killed one of my friends. There. That's my sin, are you happy? Is your playing at _my job_ so you can tear out horrible things making you happy?

_The patient's glare does not mask the shift in his mind as he speaks, tectonic plates of the heart slamming together and reshaping the landscape. For the sake of politeness, the interviewer manages to keep herself from smiling._

T͠T:̕ I'll̀ be̕ d͢ír͢e̡c͘t.̷ Wh̢y̵?

_[    ] grits his teeth as a curling wisp of ink caresses his shoulder, the interviewer slightly miffed at seeing her gesture of sympathy rejected._

IH: There was an... an _'accident'_. It wasn't supposed to be that way. None of us _wanted_ it, unless someone set it up intentionally.

T͢T: ̡In̸te͞ŗȩst͘in͟g.͘ Çomp̵li͘c̢i̕t i͜n͢ s̛o̧m̡e͟thiņģ ͠g̨one͏ w͟r͢o̶n͜ǵ, pe̡r͡h͡aps̵,̛ ̸or in ̧s͘o̸m̛e͜th͜i̷ng̴ ̷mi̧su̧nderst̕o͡o͢d͢,̀ f̛al̸sif̷i̕e͡d͘?

IH: ... Good question. I don't know which, I only know that if I hadn't been involved, nothing would have happened at all. Maybe it _couldn't_ have happened.

_Annoying. It's the interviewer's style to appear ominous and vague, and she does not care for the similarities. Ink curls itself gently around the patient's upper arms and he appears to understand that it's time for him to cut the bullshit and make the most of his session. He may not get a second chance at being treated by a true master of the craft, after all._

IH: When I was nine years old, I had some friends. Just your typical group of kids who were always together.

_The interviewer chuckles._

IH: But things could get so _boring,_ and the internet as it is now didn't really exist. None of us played video games much, didn't have the money even in the NES days... The real problem was the kid who always kind of... catalyzed everyone. He was always goading everyone into doing the stupidest things. I guess he was some kind of thrill-seeker.

_The patient picks at the skin of his left hand with the index finger and thumb of his right, taking a deep breath. Ink hasn't reached his hands; there's no need for that, not yet._

IH: One day we watched some dumb movie with scene in it where the protagonist and some other people played Russian Roulette.

_Becoming lost in memory can be important to proper healing, of course, but after fifteen or so seconds have passed, the interviewer sees fit to prod at her patient._

TT: I m̷us͝t ͠a̷dmit ̵t͟o͠ so̕m͜e curio͏si͠ty͜ as ̶t̶o ͡the̛ r͘e͠st ̛of ́y̸our̶ stor͡y.̷ I̧t wou͡l͠d͞ be ͞m̨ost̶ ͝he̛lpf̴u̷l ̀i͠f ̷you w͠ere̵ t͠o͞ a̕c͟tua̸l̢l͞y c̀o̢n͡tìn͢ue̵ ̀t̨ell͠i̕ńg͝ ͘i͢t͢. ͢Tim͡e rưņs͟ ͢s͢h͜o̶r̕t ̧fo͠r ͏us, af̸t̵er a͝ll.

_The patient attempts to glare at the interviewer and is interrupted by a dark tendril slowly running along the base of his throat, clinging snugly to its curves. Some of the patient's following words come through gritted teeth. Perhaps he finds the situation uncomfortable. The interviewer finds it quite pleasant, personally. Peaceful, even._

IH: So of course th-this kid thinks, you know what would be a fun way to spend the time, let's go play fucking pretend Russian Roulette!

_Professionalism begins to unravel, wisps of truth escaping its grasp. This is acceptable; now is the time, after all. What good is trying to rebuild something when you have not broken it enough to see how it was first put together?_

IH: My dad... had a revolver he always kept hidden in my parents' room. He must have thought I'd never find it, for some reason. Parents are... blind that way, sometimes. I'm sure you know exactly what I mean.

T̴T̶:͜ In̛d̶eed͏.

IH: So I went and 'borrowed' the goddamned thing, just because that stupid kid wanted it to feel _authentic_. We took _turns_ checking the chambers, making sure it wasn't actually loaded. It was a pretend thing, it wasn't like any of us wanted to get shot in the head. We took the thing into the w-woods so nobody would see us, and we set up a stupid roleplaying scenario with gangsters and blood money and stupid shit, and it was going to end with this big climactic gambling-with-our-lives thing.

_The patient puts his head in his hands, which is allowed for a few seconds before tightening around his throat forces him to sit up straight._

IH: It went fine, or as fine as something like that could go. At first. We'd decided I was going to be the one to pretend to die, the pretend bullet would be on the fifth trigger pull. It was... actually nerve-wracking, even though everybody knew it was supposed to be safe. I pulled the trigger and made some noise and fell over. Then... _fuck._

_The patient shuts his eyes._

IH: One of my friends, he was joking around afterwards, so he put the gun to his head, and...

_He trails off into silence._

T̷T: ͘Unfort͏unàte͘,̀ ̨t͠ơ ̕b́e ̷s̢ure, a̸s ̡wèl̴l ̢a̕s sliģht̨ly͢ co̕nf̡usi̴ng͏.

IH: I g-get gun safety, but there was no way that thing was loaded. Maybe we did screw it up, who knows, but... I always sort of wondered if someone _put a bullet back in on purpose._ Guess I'll never know. And then everybody just sort of... scattered.

T͞T͏: Yo̕u̶rse̛l̕f͞ ͏a̵mon̛g̡ t̴hem? ̧No̸t so͝me̶t͘hin̢g͡ ͘to͞ b̛e judge͡d͘ fo̡r, c̛e̸r͞ta̷inly͞.͢ A̴ f̢l͜ig̷h̡t ̢r͠es͟ponse i̧n̨ ̷su͜ch̨ a situa͢tio͘n ̡is͟ ͜ưnd̵e͟r̢st͠àndable̢ ̀fo͝r a̕ ͟c͟h̶ild.̡'

IH: ... Yeah, I did. I c-cleaned off my dad's gun.

_The patient shudders briefly._

IH: Later that night, th-the kid who always got bored and dragged everyone into these stupid games... he went back into the woods, with a shovel. A-and he dug for hours, until everything ached and burned. He smoothed the earth over and made it look... normal.

_A thin black line chooses to stroke the patient's shoulder._

IH: He was afraid of someone finding out, yeah. But it didn't really feel like that was the important part. It just didn't feel right not to give his friend a burial, and... he must have thought it made the most sense for him to be the one to do it.

_Silence for nearly half a minute, before the interviewer speaks._

TT: ͘And s̀o y̨o̢u ͞fee͜l t̀haţ yo͟ú ̸mùr͟de͞re̛d͟ ͡him,͡ a͞n͠d t̨h̕i̡s͡ is ̛t́h͘e ̧soųr̡c͝e̢ of yoưr͝ ̸gu̕įl͡t̛,̡ as wèll̨ a͟s̵ m̨y ͏visi̧o͝n.͞

IH: How _didn't_ I murder him? It was _my father's gun_. It was... my _idea_. No one forced me to do something so idiotic but I did anyway and an innocent child died. I don't know where the bullet came from, but none of it would even have happened if I hadn't...

TT: Y̕ou͡ we̵ŗe̷ a͠ c̕hil̸ḑ. ̵H͠ad̷ ̨y̶o̴u ̕k̴nown̡ ̷b̶etter, ͟y̴o̡u wo̕u̸l̴d h͝ave͞ ́a̵c̵t͢e̸d ̧di̷f͏fer͘e͠n̷tly͢.̀ ̕Was̵ the ͜fir͟e͜a̷rm ͘you͝r͏ ́f͝at͢he͟r'̨s? Ye̶s.̧ Wa̵s̸ ͝t͡h̴i̵s͜ ven̡t̛u̷re͟ f̡oolįs̀h? Of̸ ̧cou͠rse.

_The swirls of shadow on the patient's skin, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, darken further as a pulsing orange light begins to envelop the interviewer._

TT: And you are an adult now, looking back on a death that may have been no one's _'fault'_ at all and is certainly not your own. The person who made those mistakes did so without being capable of understanding the gravity of his actions. What we see before us is not a murder but what amounts to a random tragedy, no different than so many others in life. It is also, I am sure, the reason you chose this career.

_The patient stares as night-black presences retreat from his body, fold into the steady beating glow, leaving only those masking cameras and microphones._

IH: But... it's not that _simple_ , I can't just pretend --

TT: Certainly you cannot and will not pretend anything. You know that I am correct. You would say the same, were you in my position, and you would not be delivering false comfort. We both know this; you have simply not processed the idea yet. What's done is done. Leave the body, or, if you wish, find an anonymous way to report its presence. Do not blunder into the forest like a fool and dig up a literal skeleton from what must be approaching two decades ago. The probability of that scenario ending in your arrest or worse... I believe I shall leave the details to your imagination.

IH: ...

_The last shadows slither back into the interviewer's glow, which swiftly fades away. There is a knock on the door._

TT: Excellent timing. I shall escort my orderly to my quarters. Perhaps you ought to take tonight easy. Be sure to stay rested; I did not go to the trouble of saving you from yourself and from prison so that you could _fail_ to be of use to my brother and friends; my aim is quite the opposite. I will see you for the second and final time in four days; I wish you the best of luck in the interim.

IH: Just... tell me this much. Who are you, really?

TT: Someone who has made terrible mistakes, and fought to grow beyond them.

_As the interviewer leaves the room, a glance over her shoulder reveals the patient staring blankly in her direction, thin trails of salt water running from his eyes._


End file.
